


Santa Has A Mullet

by hit_the_books



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Children, Christmas, Denny's, Gen, Harvelle's Roadhouse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-16
Updated: 2017-12-16
Packaged: 2019-02-15 14:33:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13033191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hit_the_books/pseuds/hit_the_books
Summary: The Roadhouse can't do much for the hunters that pass through its doors, but it tries to do what it can, especially at Christmas.





	Santa Has A Mullet

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Nerf Herder's ["Santa Has A Mullet"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aTPnLhRLBtM).

“You almost ready, Ash?” Jo calls from the other side of Ash’s bedroom door.

Ash slips on a red velvet Santa hat and checks himself out in his shaving mirror. He figures he’s ready. He’s got the hat, the beard, the suit, the boots, and a pair of gold framed glasses that curl over his ears. No gloves, but they would get in the way of how Santa runs things at the Roadhouse.

“Just comin’,” Ash calls. He stands straight, breathes in a deep breath, nerves starting to get to him, and heads out the door. He’s already promised he won’t drink until he’s done his thing, so as he steps out into the Roadhouse proper, he can’t just call over to Ellen and ask for a shot of something strong.

Christmas brings a different looking Roadhouse. There’s tinsel all over the place. A real tree, all decked out with baubles and other pieces—many donated by regulars over the years. It’s a home away from home for hunters from all over the country. Ellen even has mulled cider and eggnog.

And Ellen has Ash, dressed as Santa Claus, for the few little tykes who come to visit.

Ash draws level with the bar and the first kid spots him. The short, brown haired boy must be no older than four.

“SANTA!” the boy cries and runs over to him, cheeks red with excitement. Two girls come over to him more hesitatingly. One’s taller than the other, but their blond hair and brown eyes shows them to be sisters.

Taking a quick glance around, Ash spots a man with a bushy beard wave at the boy, who waves back, and a man with a baseball cap wave at the two girls. Both men have that look about their eyes, on the verge of tears as they try to bring some semblance of normality to their kids’ lives.

“C’mon, who wants to make some Christmas cards?” Ash asks through the beard and the kids smile at him.

“Yes please!” says the boy, and the sisters nod.

“Sweet, follow me.” Ash leads the way to a large table that Ellen and Jo set-up for their crafting activities.

The table is covered in sheets of newspaper to reduce mess. There’s different sheets of colored card, pots of glue, glitter pots, crayons, feathers, pieces of tinsel, kids scissors, and much more. Everything the kids might need. Ash takes the lead and helps the kids pick out pieces of card to start.

He learns their names. The boy is Daniel. The eldest girl is Faith, and the youngest is Harriet. Ash already knows their parents or guardians appreciate that this Santa makes cards with their kids rather than ask them what they want for Christmas. Neither of the men at the bar would ever be able to give them what they want—whether it’s a new Barbie or their moms.

While the four of them work on their cards, the bar’s usual talk of hunts dies back and is replaced with something almost like normal conversations. Goodwill to all men and that kind of thing—it makes Ash feel all warm inside.

A couple of hours and sodas later, and the kids have cards for all of their loved ones. Their dads mostly. A few for distant family or friends. For those, Ellen hands out envelopes and stamps, so that they can find their way home.

Jo heads over to Ash as he packs up, the crafting done and the kids gone. She puts a hand on his arm that tells him they can sort it out in the morning. It’s late now, and the Roadhouse doesn’t really do food, at least Not what Jo knows Ash is hungering for.

“Come on.” Jo doesn’t give Ash a chance to change, and leads him out of the bar with a wave to her mom.

The drive takes twenty. It’s midnight when they arrive at the nearest Denny’s. The place is the exact opposite of the Roadhouse. Light and colorful, inside and out.

Jo leads Ash inside, few words said. It’s tough making Christmas cards with kids who’ve lost loved ones. And Ash can’t quite bring himself to say anything to fill the silence. They’re seated quickly, and given menus. Ash already knows what he’s having.

The waitress who comes up to them isn’t fazed by Ash’s Santa costume.

“Though you might wanna take off the beard before you eat, hun,” she recommends after taking their order. Ash follows her advice, slipping the beard off, but keeping the glasses on.

It’s quiet in the Denny’s. Most people should be home in bed at this time of night, safe. Though safe is context sensitive—Ash knows what lurks in the dark.

He’s just drinking down his first mouthful of chocolate shake, when Jo finally says, “Thank you.”

Ash wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “It’s cool. I enjoy it.”

They eat their food with no conversation. Ash enjoys a banana pecan pancake breakfast. Jo has a Philly cheesesteak omelet with her vanilla shake. Christmas tunes wash over them from the speakers, but Ash pays little attention to them.

Jo gets why he doesn’t talk. It’s all part of the ritual they’ve built for this time of year. There may be three more trips to Denny’s before Christmas Day rolls on by. Each one after working with kids who all have painfully similar stories to tell. He just has to stop himself from thinking that none of what he does helps, because it does. The kids smile and that’s what matters.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for reasons: <http://spncoldesthits.tumblr.com/post/168589534825/mayalaen-under-the-missile-toe-spncoldesthits>.


End file.
